XIE JINGLAN had lost track of how far he'd walked.
His black garments were tattered, stained with dust and grime. His hair was a tangled mess, his face streaked with dirt—he hadn't washed either for days. He felt as if a rusty piece of metal were lodged in his parched throat, impossible to cough up or swallow. Even his saliva tasted of blood. But a worse torment was his hunger—the way his empty stomach ached from famishment. He felt lightheaded, the world spinning around him.
He had planned to pawn the earrings he'd been given for travel expenses before leaving Jinling, but the shopkeeper had accused him of stealing and confiscated them. He'd even called his servants to beat the boy. Xie Jinglan had fled in a panic, only to realize he'd left his dagger behind in the shop.
He hadn't eaten for so long that he resorted to scavenging scraps from the kitchen waste dumped near restaurants, although those seemingly preferred to feed their leftovers to pigs, rather than beggars. More often than not, they sent their staff out with brooms to chase Xie Jinglan away.
A few days earlier, he'd seen a boy, no more than five or six years old, sitting on a house's doorstep and nibbling a sugar cake while watching passersby. Xie Jinglan had stood behind a wall, staring hungrily at the small confection clutched in the boy's hand as if it were the last morsel in the world. His hunger urged him to snatch the cake, while his rationality told him that robbing a child would be shameful. He'd struggled, mind torn.
When only one bite of the cake remained, he finally gave in. Darting past the child, he snatched what remained of the small sugar-coated cake. At first, the child continued to crouch in place, hand still cupping an invisible cake. By the time he realized what had happened, Xie Jinglan was long gone, and the boy burst out crying, stumbling back into the house to tearfully complain.
Xie Jinglan crouched in a nearby alley, swallowing the last bite of the cake with tears in his own eyes. From then on, he roamed the streets like a stray dog searching for bones, seeking out food in the hands of weak, vulnerable children. Adults sometimes caught and beat him, yet he managed to steal barely enough to fill his stomach.
Later, Xie Jinglan walked and walked and lost any idea of where he was. The fields in the countryside were dry and cracked, like an old man's shrivelled skin. All around him were starving refugees. Some traveled with their families, and others walked alone. Everyone was equally destitute, so there was nothing left to steal.
At times, he saw emaciated children with horrifically swollen bellies, the result of eating clay. They lay on the ground, pale-lipped and waiting to die. Eventually, he stopped seeing children or the elderly on the roads at all. Terrified of being captured and cannibalized, Xie Jinglan stuck to remote, deserted paths. When he was famished, he plucked wild grass to stave off his hunger.
Thoughts of food and water consumed his mind. He no longer had the energy to hate Wei De or to reminisce. He didn't care whether Qiye Garden would find him one night while he slept curled in some corner. All he cared about was filling his belly. Nothing else mattered.
The only possessions he still had were the black clothes and mask Xiahou Lian had given him. He kept the mask hidden in his lapels, afraid that someone might see it and take it away.
Later, he remembered Xiahou Lian saying that they would meet again if Xie Jinglan placed a copper coin at the highest point in the city, so he went to the bell tower and climbed to the top. The scorching sun made him squint his eyes, and his legs were so weak that every step felt like walking on cotton. Still, he clambered up and placed the mask next to the large bell. His arrival startled the pigeons in front of the bell; they flapped their wings and scattered in all directions.
By the time Xiahou Lian arrived, Xie Jinglan would probably already be dead from starvation. Xie Jinglan leaned against the wall, drifting in and out of consciousness.
Then he felt sweet water trickling into his mouth. Suddenly coming to, he grabbed at the canteen and gulped its contents down. A steamed bun was placed in front of him next. Xie Jinglan snatched it up and began wolfing it down.
"Slow down, slow down. Don't choke," the man with him said, smiling and patting Xie Jinglan's back.
Xie Jinglan peered up. The man before him looked like a scholar. His eyes exuded warmth and gentleness, like still water.
Swallowing a mouthful of the bun, Xie Jinglan rasped, "I know you."
"Oh?"
"That night at the Xie residence. You were the one who let me go." Xie Jinglan's eyes reddened as he recalled the slaughter that night.
"So you did notice," Qiu Ye said with a faint smile. "You and Xiao-Lian have a similar build, but your postures while walking, as well as your gazes when you look at others, are entirely different. I often disguise myself, so while your little trick might've fooled the other assassins, it wasn't enough to fool me."
"You may have let me go, but you're still one of the killers who destroyed my family. I refuse to thank you."
"I don't expect your gratitude."
"Where's Xiahou Lian? Why didn't he come?"
Qiu Ye's eyes darkened, and he didn't answer directly. Instead he said, "You shouldn't have pulled out that mask here. If Qiye Garden finds it, you'll be killed. You're lucky it was me who came across it, or Xiao-Lian's efforts would've been in vain."
"What's the difference between starving to death and being killed by you?"
Qiu Ye pressed a piece of silver into his palm. "Take care of yourself. Xiao-Lian traded his life for yours. You shouldn't waste his sacrifice."
Xie Jinglan was startled. "Xiahou Lian... What happened to him? He promised he wouldn't be killed."
Qiu Ye's expression turned mournful as he gazed south. "By helping you escape assassination, he violated Qiye Garden's rules. The abbot sentenced him to eighty-one lashes. When I left, he was still in bed, unconscious. I don't know how he's doing now, but no news is good news. Xiao-Lian has always been strong-willed. He'll be fine."
"What about the Garuda? Isn't he her son? Why didn't she save him?!"
"The temple's rules are strict. Even the Garuda cannot defy them." Qiu Ye looked at Xie Jinglan, his gaze growing more serious. "Xiao-Lian must care a lot about you if he told you that the Garuda is his mother."
Xie Jinglan looked away. "He didn't tell me. I figured it out myself."
Qiu Ye sighed. "Today will be the last time we meet. Don't come looking for Xiao-Lian again. You're registered in Qiye Garden's books as our prey—the assassins will hunt you like hounds. Head to the capital. There are many wealthy people there, and you won't starve like you might elsewhere. Maybe you'll even run into a palace noble who'll give you porridge."
Xie Jinglan was stunned. Would he really never see Xiahou Lian again?
"Farewell and good luck, little young master." With that, Qiu Ye stepped onto the city wall, smiling at Xie Jinglan, then leaned back and fell, his inky hair fluttering in the wind like silk.
By the time Xie Jinglan leaned out to look, Qiu Ye had vanished, whisked away like a leaf on the wind.
After that, Xie Jinglan followed Qiu Ye's advice, joining the flow of refugees heading to the capital. With their blank, dust-covered faces and eyes and lips drained of color, they looked like clay dolls or walking corpses. Their shoes had worn through, exposing their dirty toes. Fortunately, the weather was warm enough not to chill the bare parts of their feet.
After three days of being turned away at the capital city gates, Xie Jinglan managed to sneak in during a refugee riot. The city's corners were already full of sleeping vagrants in tattered clothes, their limbs wasted away to skin and bone. Soldiers sifted the crowds in order to load the dead onto carts for mass burials.
Xie Jinglan didn't linger, walking numbly in the direction of the imperial palace. As the sky darkened, lanterns flamed to life along the streets, and light flooded the area until it shone bright as day. Carriages and horses filled the streets, and fireworks burst in the air. As they arced through the sky after exploding, their deafening sounds grew fainter and fainter, until they seemed like noises from a different world entirely.
It was the Mid-Autumn Festival.
Xie Jinglan felt nothing. He simply blended into the crowd and silently pickpocketed a purse for himself. Suddenly, the crowd split as if forced apart. Everyone stepped back as a four-horse carriage rumbled down the street, leaving two long, straight tracks in its wake. Behind the carriage trotted two rows of Eastern Depot agents on horseback, carrying black sabers. Their black clothing bore insignias depicting bared teeth and claws; their faces were cold and expressionless, like demonic Asuras of the night. Whispers spread through the crowd.
"What a sight! Wei-gonggong's authority has reached new heights! If a mere eunuch can become so influential, what's the point of being a proper scholar these days?"
"Are you trying to get yourself killed? Watch your tongue, or the agents will take your life."
"Hey, I heard that one of the palace eunuchs will be recruiting at Dong'an Gate tomorrow at noon. Maybe we should try our luck. Who knows, one day I could be head of the Eastern Depot!"
"That's a sure way to end your family line. You go ahead—I won't be joining you."
Out of nowhere, a disheveled beggar rushed from the crowd, brandishing a string of firecrackers. "Eunuch Wei!" he roared at the carriage. "The six prefectures of Shandong are overrun with starving people, yet you sit here on your laurels!" The firecrackers popped and sparked as the beggar hurled them toward the carriage, attempting to startle the horses. An agent intercepted the firecrackers mid-flight, however, tossing them aside.
Another agent swiftly dismounted and seized the beggar. The beggar struggled fiercely, shouting, "Eunuch Wei, you've brought disaster to the nation! The six provinces of Shandong are on their last legs! Oh, heavens, can't you see?!"
Swearing, the agent dislocated the beggar's jaw, then broke his arms and legs. The beggar fell limp, like a bag of old clothes, his eyes wide and bloodshot.
From inside the carriage, a hand draped with prayer beads emerged. It made a slight gesture.
At that signal, the agent drew his saber and slashed the beggar's throat. Blood sprayed in a fountain, and the beggar twitched a few times before falling still.
As the beggar's body was carried away, the carriage rolled forward. The crowd reconvened as noise swelled once more. Vendors hawked goods, and the sound of thundering drums filled the air.
In this world, a person's death was like a grain of sand swept away by the tide—unnoticed and leaving no trace to be found.
Wei De. So the man in the carriage was the eunuch. Xie Jinglan slowly clenched his fists as he watched the carriage disappear around the corner.
If Xie Jinglan gained immense power one day, would he be able to make decisions about life and death with a wave of his hand? Would a single moment of his anger wipe out countless lives and ruin entire families? Wei De stood below only one man and above ten thousand, so Xie Jinglan would have to stand above all, with ten thousand times ten thousand below him. From then on, anyone who wronged, hurt, or betrayed him would find themselves reduced to ashes. Dukes and nobles would bow before him, and even royal heirs would kneel at his feet.
Xie Jinglan lifted his head, his eyes dark and impenetrable chasms. Within the depths of his heart, a demon slowly opened its eyes.
The moon set, and the sun rose. Shops opened their doors, and noodle vendors in their stalls began to work their dough. Xie Jinglan buried Xiahou Lian's mask beneath an old pagoda tree in an alley and marked the spot. Then he stood, straightened his clothes in the sunlight, and walked out of the alley. A long line had already formed at Dong'an Gate.
Some of the men there had already castrated themselves, their clothing stained with blood as they shuffled weakly in line. Others, deemed too old, were driven from the queue. Tumbling to the ground, they sobbed and begged to join the palace eunuchs.
When it was at last Xie Jinglan's turn, the eunuch taking names glanced at him and asked indifferently, "How old are you?"
"Twelve."
"What's your name, and where are you from?"
"I'm from Jinling." Xie Jinglan paused. Then, noticing the jade pendant on the eunuch's waist, he continued, "My name is Shen Jue—'jue' as in a jade pendant."
The eunuch wrote Shen Jue on a wooden plaque and handed it to Xie Jinglan. Holding the plaque, Xie Jinglan followed the other beggars who'd been chosen, and they arrived at the towering palace gates. The vermilion gates slowly opened, revealing the endless imperial road and countless palace doors. Beneath the palace walls, those in line looked like a trail of ants, small and fragile.
The heavy gates began to swing closed behind Xie Jinglan. He turned his head. Just before the gates slammed shut, a last ray of sunlight fell upon him, illuminating his expressionless face.